


Mending Hearts

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Babies, F/F, Family, One Shot, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tamsin faces unforeseen consequences of her and Dyson's hookup, Kenzi finds something to live for, and Bo realizes that what she wants has been staring her in the face all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mending Hearts

It’s the first time Kenzi’s smiled since Hale’s death.

Which is infuriating really, because that’s the _last_ reaction Tamsin wants to see. One look at the fragile warmth blossoming in those baby blues, and Tamsin knows there’s no way she can use the herbs tucked into her jacket pocket. She can’t be the reason that light goes out again.

But what the _fuck_ is she going to do with a baby?

***

It was only that one time. Dyson was drunk, Tamsin was desperate, shit happened. They barely had time to start reaching for their clothes before Dyson’s phone went off, and Tamsin didn’t need to make out Bo’s words; the broken, incoherent sobs were enough to get her dressed and headed for Dyson’s bike.

They haven’t talked about it since. Haven’t had time; with everything going on, they’ve had their hands full being there for Kenzi and Bo. They wouldn’t _need_ to talk about it, either, if she’d had the presence of mind to carry a fucking condom.

That’s the worst part—that she was such an idiot. It’s been so long since she’s even had to worry about that kind of shit; her last body had technically expired long before she gave up on it, and certainly wasn’t going to be creating new life any time soon. It’s been centuries since Tamsin has been young. Hormonal. Fertile.

_Shit._

It’s not even Dyson’s reaction she’s worried about. He’s so damned noble that she’ll have to fight him off with a stick before he tries to put a ring on her finger.

No, there’s someone who’s _definitely_ not going to like this—someone whose opinion is maddeningly even more important to her.

She tells Dyson first. He doesn’t propose, but he swears not to leave her side, which is almost as bad. She lets him down gently; she never needed anyone before, she doesn’t need anyone now (except maybe Kenzi), and she’s certainly not going to get sucked into a _relationship_ for the sake of a lump of cells in her uterus. Dyson seems okay with that—at least, once she makes it abundantly, painfully clear that this is strictly a co-parenting gig.

He’ll be a good dad. Which is good, considering Tamsin is pretty sure she’s not going to be winning any Mother of the Year awards. She still can’t even wrap her head around the fact that she’s going to _be_ a mother. In all her centuries of life, she’s never once associated herself with that word.

Well, her last life is as good a place to start as any.

***

Bo takes more preparation. Tamsin has Kenzi make sure Bo comes home for dinner, invites Dyson over, and waits out the afternoon gazing longingly at the fresh bottles of top-shelf booze Kenzi acquired for the occasion. She’d kill for a drink right now, but Kenzi would kill _her_.

It’s probably better, anyway; alcohol might loosen her tongue, and there are certain secrets she prefers to keep hidden. Besides, she probably wouldn’t be able to hold her liquor anyway, with the anxiety churning in her gut.

…or maybe it’s not anxiety. The pizza arrives, fresh and hot and greasy, and Tamsin barely manages to drop it on the kitchen counter on her way to the bathroom.

Morning sickness, her ass.

She doesn’t realize anyone else is home until hears a soft, distant voice saying her name, feels cool fingers tucking her hair away from her face. Then a familiar warmth seeps into her skin, and the sick feeling in her stomach slowly fades.

The boost from Bo’s powers manages to quell her nausea for the time being, although she’s careful to sit as far away from the pizza as possible when they go back downstairs. Bo doesn’t seem interested in food at the moment, anyway; she’s too busy studying Tamsin with curious suspicion.

Dyson sits next to her on a tattered footstool, offering his hand for her to squeeze. Tamsin gives him a look that tries to be critical but somehow only ends up grateful; she grips his hand extra hard, with just a hint of sharp fingernails, to make up for it. Across from them, on the couch, Kenzi is poised to intercept Bo if she doesn’t take the news well.

For all their preparation, it’s all pretty anti-climactic. Bo takes the news with a startled “Oh”, her face twisting a bit with some complicated emotion when Dyson admits that it’s his. She’s more or less silent after that, letting Kenzi take over the conversation with an excited stream of plans for baby-proofing the crack shack.

Tamsin can’t help but notice Bo’s not as into it. She smiles politely, tries to conjure enthusiasm, but it’s obvious she’s not thrilled. Still, when Kenzi drags over the pizza and Tamsin’s stomach rolls again, Bo doesn’t hesitate to move to her side. Her charms soothe the lurching, but just barely; Tamsin stumbles to her feet and heads for the stairs, to let them eat in peace.

Bo follows her upstairs. Tamsin watches her warily as they ascend, wondering if she’s about to find out how Bo _really_ feels, but Bo only guides her into the bedroom with a gentle hand at the small of her back. When Tamsin sinks down onto her twin bed, Bo sits down next to her.

“I’m not mad,” Bo says quietly.

“You have a right to be.” Tamsin keeps her eyes on the floor, one palm pressed flat against her belly. Bo didn’t have a claim on Dyson, not when _this_ happened, but Kenzi brought her up well in this life—it’s, like, a Bro Code thing. You don’t bang your friends’ exes. Especially not your friends who you maybe sorta have a thing for.

“No, I don’t,” Bo admits with a wry smile. “Granted, I still want to be, but…I’m glad you were there—that you could be there for each other.”

Tamsin swallows, glances up at Bo. “You don’t seem very glad.”

“I am, I promise.” Bo reaches over and takes Tamsin’s free hand, squeezes it. “It’s just complicated.”

“It was just the one time, you know. No way am I going there again.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” Bo says gently. “Tamsin, Dyson and I are…we’ve been over for a while. It just took me some time to see it.”

It stings. Tamsin’s fingers dig into her belly as she struggles to keep the hurt off of her face. Of course Bo wouldn’t care. Tamsin could go out and screw everyone on the planet, and as long as she stayed away from Lauren, Bo wouldn’t bat an eye.

She swallows roughly, pulls her hand out of Bo’s. “I’m beat,” she says gruffly. “Gonna call it an early night.”

“Okay.” Bo frowns, lays a hand on Tamsin’s shoulder. She’s no doubt confused by Tamsin’s response, but she doesn’t push. “If you need anything, I’m right down the hall.”

Tamsin shrugs half-heartedly and doesn’t look up as Bo walks out.

***

The crying is the worst.

She can deal with being sick to her stomach; decades of excessive alcohol use have prepared her for that much. But evil Krampus candy notwithstanding, Tamsin doesn’t _cry_.

Except that now, apparently, she does.

It’s always over the stupidest shit, too. The other day it was Kenzi’s illegal download of _Adventure Time_. This morning it was the fact that they were _still_ out of Sugar Crispies, even though she made it very clear to Kenzi that she needed to have them for her own sanity, and Jesus Christ she has a fucking parasite growing inside of her, can Kenzi not do this one goddamn thing?

And, you know, diaper commercials and stuff. Stupid shit.

She still can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that there’s an actual life growing in her belly. The ultrasound Lauren did looked more like something from _The X-Files_ than anything resembling a human baby.

Oh, and that’s fun too. Tamsin wanted to use someone else, whatever random doctor had taken Lauren’s place in the Dark, but Bo had insisted. Lauren is the best, she said, and this baby deserves the best.

Although, Bo _did_ have a point about the kid’s parentage. A Dark Fae with a Light father is not something either side would take kindly to. Not that anyone’s around to do anything about it lately, with the giant power vacuum left by the deaths of the Una Mens and the…humanization of the Morrigan.

It’s more than a little awkward, lying back with her legs in the air and Bo’s main squeeze between her legs. Even more awkward when Bo insists on being there, as a show of support. She’s a perfect gentleman, never peeks, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tamsin’s junk is on display while Bo is holding onto her hand.

She can’t help but notice the tension between them. At the very least, it provides her a distraction from the poking and prodding. Tamsin’s heard about Lauren’s little sex-periment by now, courtesy of Kenzi and her dependable need to gossip; maybe there’s a little more than science going on between the doc and the former Morrigan. It would explain the stilted politeness in Bo’s tone, the strained smile that graces Lauren’s lips so often now.

Bo wouldn’t let that keep her from Tamsin’s side, though. She’s been almost excessively supportive of late, no doubt trying to make up for her initial non-reaction. Tamsin can’t decide how to feel about it; on the one hand, part of her is thrilled to be receiving so much of Bo’s attention. On the other, she is _so_ not used to having people quite this up in her business.

A little alone time every now and then would be nice. Besides, it’s not exactly easy to try to get over someone when they’re always around. And if Tamsin ever wants any kind of peace of mind again, getting over Bo is an absolute must.

Before, she could have left. She had no ties to this place, aside from Kenzi and maybe Dyson. Now…

Well, everything is different now. She contemplated hitting the road once the kid was born, leaving it with Dyson so there would be no reason to come after her, but that only lasted a second or two. The thought of the disappointment on Kenzi’s face was enough to banish the idea.

Who knew one measly childhood could make such a difference?

***

Tamsin doesn’t get sick anymore, but it’s small comfort when she’s grown too big for pretty much all of her clothes. She’s taken to lounging around the clubhouse in sweatpants twenty-four seven because she refuses to set foot in a maternity store.

Which, granted, is a pretty sweet setup. Bo and Kenzi supply her with all the snacks and X-Files bootlegs she could ask for, and she doesn’t have to do like, anything for herself.

It was nice, for the first month. After a while, the novelty of being waited on hand and foot gets a little old.

Today is a nice break from the norm, at least. Kenzi has been out most of the day, following some lead on cheap baby furniture or something, and Bo is only just getting back from her own errands. It’s been a glorious four or five hours of peace and quiet.

Bo drops something into Tamsin’s lap before moving around to curl up next to her on the couch. The red bag crinkles in Tamsin’s hands, and her stomach rolls hungrily as she tears open the package.

“God,” Tamsin moans, lifting a potato chip to her mouth. She chews slowly, savoring the flavor before swallowing. “Maple bacon. You know, you’re getting scary accurate with predicting my cravings.”

“It’s not _scary_ ,” Bo retorts with an affectionate smile. She reaches over to steal a chip. “I just pay attention, is all.”

There’s another flutter in her stomach. Tamsin grabs a chip and shoves it into her mouth, then nearly chokes on it when she realizes—

It’s not nerves. Her hand flies to her belly as she doubles over, coughing bits of chip out of her throat. Bo is at her side instantly, setting the chips aside and rubbing slow, warm circles into Tamsin’s back.

“I’m good,” Tamsin says hoarsely once she’s recovered. The hand resting on her belly jumps as the baby moves again. “Just…wasn’t expecting that.”

The pieces click together slowly, and Bo’s eyes get wide and bright. “Is it—is she _kicking_?”

Tamsin nods stiffly, still dazed. Almost unconsciously, she reaches for Bo’s hand and places it on her stomach. Within moments, there’s another flutter of movement.

A soft, delicate breath catches in Bo’s throat. Her eyes drag up to Tamsin’s, and this time Tamsin doesn’t think it’s the baby causing her stomach to lurch.

“O. M. G.” Kenzi’s voice shatters the moment. Bo jumps back away from Tamsin, something complex simmering behind her eyes. In the doorway, Kenzi drops a nice-looking baby carrier to the floor and brings her hands to her chest. “Tell me I did not just miss the first kick!”

It takes less than seconds for Kenzi to rush over and kneel on the floor in front of the couch. Tamsin guides Kenzi’s hands to the right spot and waits.

Kenzi gasps, glistening eyes darting up to meet Tamsin’s. “T,” she breathes, cradling Tamsin’s belly almost reverently. The baby shifts again, and Kenzi’s mouth stretches into a wide, watery grin. “You’ve got a regular little Rockette in there.” Her focus turns back to Tamsin’s stomach. “You are going to have the _best_ shoes, let me tell you…”

Tamsin glances over at Bo, smiles as Kenzi murmurs softly to the baby. Bo returns the smile easily; the pull of tension between them has faded in light of Kenzi’s bittersweet joy.

Hale’s death broke something inside of Kenzi; Tamsin has lived with death long enough to recognize its effects. What she never expected was to see those broken pieces start to mend, all due to one small, fragile life.

She’s only ever brought death to the world. It’s hard to get used to the idea that she’s about to bring life into it. Part of her wants to panic; seeing a sonogram is one thing, but feeling it _move_ —it’s really in there, her kid, and it’s depending on her for everything.

Yeah, that’s gonna take a bit of work.

***

Dyson gets this stupid grin on his face when she lets him feel it for the first time.

“Enjoy it while you can, partner.” Tamsin raises an eyebrow pointedly. “This does not mean you can grope me whenever you feel like it.”

He smirks, not moving his hand from the swell of her abdomen. “Isn’t that what got us into trouble in the first place?”

Tamsin rolls her eyes, shoves his hand away as he laughs. It’s not weird, like it so easily could be; they’ve settled almost effortlessly into their roles in this strange, platonic co-parenting thing. He’s been her lifeline on more than one occasion, when the constant fussing of her housemates got overwhelming.

His grin softens as his laughter ebbs. “Have you thought about names?”

She shrugs, looks down. “Not really. Still got a few months, right?”

“Of course,” Dyson replies with a small smile. He hesitates, like he’s trying to figure out how to say something.

“What’s up, D-man?” She prods him in the side. “You got a name in mind?”

When Dyson’s eyes rise to meet hers, they glimmer with something deep, profound. “Ciara.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way his lips and tongue curl around the syllables of the name, the softness in his eyes; it’s clear he’s not thinking about some long lost sister.

Tamsin groans playfully. “Please tell me you’re not trying to name my kid after some chick you used to bone.”

Dyson smiles, but there’s sadness in it. “She was more than that,” he says softly. “She was…special. Worthy of remembering.”

_Was._ Tamsin sobers. “When did she die?”

“Not long before I met you, actually.” He smirks. “I think you’d have liked her. She didn’t put up with my shit either.”

“My kind of woman,” Tamsin quips. She pauses, looks down at her lap. “Well, it’s not like I have any better ideas.”

When she looks back up, Dyson’s expression has brightened a bit. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Tamsin says with a shrug. “Why not?”

He sees through her attempt to be casual, to be distant, and reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. “Thank you.”

The calm gratitude in his voice reveals just how much of a gift he considers this. It doesn’t make much difference to Tamsin what the kid is called, but Dyson obviously cares.

It’s funny. Tamsin keeps thinking she finally gets it, that it’s sunk in—she’s having a baby, she’s gonna be a _mother_. Then something like this happens, and it hits her all over again. The kid won’t even be born for a few more months, but already pride radiates from Dyson’s every pore.

It might be starting to rub off on her—Dyson’s pride, Kenzi’s boundless enthusiasm, Bo’s constant support. With all of their help, she might not screw this up too badly.

***

Heat seeps into Tamsin’s skin, loosening the tight, sore muscles in her lower back. Bo’s powers work far better than any heating pad or over-the-counter painkiller, Tamsin has found.

There’s just one very large and inconvenient side effect: the heat doesn’t stop at her back. It pools between her legs, throbs in her blood in a way that’s much more agonizing than a backache.

She can usually ignore it, at least long enough for Bo to finish. She’s certainly no stranger to frustration, especially with the wild fluctuation of her hormones. Tonight, though…tonight is different somehow.

Bo’s touch lingers just a little too long at the small of her back; her nails scrape lightly along the skin as she drags them up in lazy circles under Tamsin’s shirt. Maybe she’s distracted, maybe she’s just being particularly attentive tonight, but whatever it is, it’s driving Tamsin insane.

It just makes sense to do this in Bo’s bed; it’s big enough for them both to lie on their sides, to give Bo access to Tamsin’s back without putting pressure on her ever-growing belly. But all the logic in the world can’t distract Tamsin from the fact that she is painfully aroused in the very bed that so frequently features in her fantasies.

A fingernail tickles at Tamsin’s side, and a pained whimper catches in her throat. “Stop,” she forces out through her teeth.

The change is instantly palpable. Bo’s hand flattens against Tamsin’s back as she leans forward. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?”

Tamsin sucks in a labored breath. “She’s fine.” She clears her throat, tries to sound detached. “I, on the other hand, haven’t been laid in seven months.”

“Oh,” Bo murmurs, yanking her hand out from under Tamsin’s shirt and resting it hesitantly on her hip. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think…”

“Whatever.” Tamsin shrugs, her brow creased tight. “Just…maybe I should stick with the painkillers.”

“Right,” Bo agrees, though her hand doesn’t move. Even through the thick cotton of Tamsin’s sweatpants, Bo’s touch is warm and electric. She taps nervously at Tamsin’s hip for a moment or two before clearing her throat. “Or I could…help.”

Tamsin’s eyes slam shut. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Bo slides closer, her breath rustling the hair on the back of Tamsin’s neck. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

Memories flood Tamsin’s mind, carried in the sultry edge of Bo’s voice; the throbbing between her legs sharpens, intensifies. “That was different,” she says, curling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “We were drunk, and in a time loop. We did a lot of shit we shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t regret it.” Soft lips whisper against Tamsin’s neck with every tentative word. “Do you?”

“No.” Tamsin nearly chokes on the admission, swallows hard. “Bo…”

Bo shifts forward to drop tender kisses onto Tamsin’s shoulder, up her throat. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” Her voice is solemn despite the desire thickening it. Tamsin knows, trusts that Bo is absolutely telling the truth.

She also knows that if Bo stops right now, the need pulsing in her veins might very well kill her.

All it takes is a small shift of her head. Her lips seek out Bo’s almost automatically, and she whimpers at the first taste of Bo’s tongue. Before she knows it Tamsin is on her back, Bo’s body pressing down carefully against her own. Her fingers sink into Bo’s hair, tangle in it; she swallows Bo’s gasp eagerly, tugs just hard enough to coax out a throaty moan.

It’s agonizing, how slow and gentle and _careful_ Bo is. Her palm presses hard into the mattress at Tamsin’s hip, her knees planted securely on either side of one of Tamsin’s thighs. She’s so goddamn conscious of everything, of not hurting the baby; even her free hand, teasing under the hem of Tamsin’s t-shirt, is wary and considerate.

Tamsin whimpers into Bo’s mouth, jerks her hips down and off of the bed. She only just manages to make contact with Bo’s thigh, her sweatpants sliding slick and damp between them. She’s probably wet enough for Bo to feel it, even through two layers of clothing.

With a grin, Bo presses Tamsin’s hips back down into the mattress. Tamsin bites back another whimper when Bo tears her mouth away, leaning back on her feet as she drags Tamsin up to a sitting position.

Bo drags Tamsin’s t-shirt up and over her head. Tamsin hisses as the cool air hits her overheated skin, gasps when Bo’s palm closes over a breast. They’re fuller now, and more sensitive than they were before, nipples dark and painfully hard; the heat of Bo’s hand is both soothing and maddening all at once.

Her arms shake with the strain of holding herself up. Bo notices, leans in to capture Tamsin’s mouth in a brief kiss.

“Gimme a sec,” Bo murmurs, her breath hot on Tamsin’s lips. She pulls away then, builds a mountain from the few scattered pillows on the bed before gently guiding Tamsin back against them.

That’s when it gets awkward. It’s not the position—the extra support actually makes this a lot more comfortable—so much as the fact that she’s lying there, naked from the waist up, more exposed than she’s been with anyone outside of her medical visits for months.

Tamsin has never been insecure about her body. Confused, maybe, in those oh-so-fun early days after a rebirth when eighteen years of physical development are condensed into a few weeks, but never insecure. She’s hot and she knows it.

At least, she used to know it. Now there’s a rounded curve where once there were abs so defined you could cut yourself on them, swollen ankles that make her want to strangle Kenzi any time she so much as says the word “shoes”.

She certainly doesn’t feel deserving of the look Bo is giving her now. Brown eyes glowing faintly blue, lips parted in awe. For a second, Tamsin is terrified that Bo might do something devastating like tell her she’s beautiful; that might be more than she can take.

Instead, Bo just leans in to kiss Tamsin softly on the lips, traces a path down Tamsin’s throat with her tongue. She holds herself carefully above Tamsin, her ample breasts just barely brushing against Tamsin’s bare flesh.

Then Bo’s lips and tongue wrap around a nipple and Tamsin groans, sharp and needy. She’s never really been into foreplay, but this is almost too intense to qualify; the slick heat of Bo’s mouth feels like a lit match on her skin, the gentle nip of her teeth a spark.

When Bo reaches the gentle swell of Tamsin’s belly, she stops. Her eyes, glittering with wonder, dart up to lock with Tamsin’s own.

“I thought you were incredible before.” The words fall from Bo’s lips, barely more than breath, as her trembling hand rests gingerly against Tamsin’s stomach.

Whatever response Tamsin might have voiced gets stuck in her throat. She slams her eyes shut against the surge of oncoming tears. Damn it, she will _not_ do this now.

“Bo,” she chokes out, reaching down to squeeze Bo’s hand. “Please.”

With her eyes closed, she only knows what Bo is doing by feel; a single reverent kiss pressed to the roundest part of her belly, the tickle of fingertips hooking under the waistband of her sweats. She lifts her hips and Bo drags the pants down her legs, leaving her slick and open to the air.

Tamsin opens her eyes just in time to catch another flash of blue in Bo’s. Then coherent thought disappears, chased away by the heat of Bo’s breath. She can scarcely remember how to breathe herself; whether it’s because she’s pregnant or because Bo is a succubus or because Bo is _Bo_ , this is the most intense thing she’s experienced in a long, long time.

Then Bo’s tongue slicks against her flesh, and Tamsin can’t remember anything that isn’t here, now, in this room. Her fingers curl in the sheets, her head arches back into the pillows, her hips jerk up urgently as Bo’s fingers gently, oh-so-gently slide into her.

It doesn’t take long. Tamsin is so worked up, and Bo feels _so_ good; it’s a wonder she lasts as long as she does. When it happens, when she starts to get close, Bo’s mouth is replaced by nimble fingers. She can feel Bo’s eyes on her, forces her own open to meet them.

The look on Bo’s face, in the bright glow of her eyes, is too much for Tamsin to take. It’s powerful, intimate—like Bo is coaxing her over the edge with her gaze, pulling at her through some unseen connection. Tamsin has no hope of resisting, no choice but to fall.

She collapses back against the pillows as climax takes her, sparking electrical currents that race along every last bit of skin. Her chest burns from breathing hard, and the baby squirms irritably in response to the contracting of her abdomen. And under all of that, there’s this hot leaden feeling in her stomach, pulsing anxiously.

Because Bo is still looking at her— _gazing_ , really, breathing soft and shallow as the moment stretches on. It’s too much, too intimate, too _connected_. Tamsin feels a sharp flutter of panic in her chest that settles into cold disappointment when she reminds herself that the connection is only temporary; tomorrow, Bo will go right back to obsessing over Lauren’s non-relationship with Evony, or picking up random feeds at the Dal. This was just…a favor for a friend.

Tamsin’s face pulls in on itself as tears press at the back of her throat. Try as she might, she can’t stop them from spilling down her cheeks. She presses her hand to her mouth, but not quickly enough to stifle the sob that bursts from her lips.

Bo is up at her side in an instant, murmuring soothing words as she brushes Tamsin’s hair out of her face. Tamsin wants to stop her, wants to run to the safety and privacy of her own bed, wants to turn and burrow into Bo’s arms. All she can manage to do is roll onto her side, curl up with her back to Bo. She may _want_ to accept the comfort that Bo is so readily offering, but she’s stubborn enough to refuse it for the sake of her pride.

Not that Bo lets that stop her; she just slides in flush against Tamsin’s back, presses a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder. She doesn’t prod, doesn’t try to coax Tamsin into spilling whatever’s on her mind; she just holds Tamsin, palm curving protectively over her stomach. She’s just letting Tamsin cry, and that only makes the tears come harder.

Tamsin doesn’t know how long they lie there like that, her sobbing into Bo’s pillow with Bo wrapped around her. Eventually the tears slow, stop, and all that’s left is the steady rhythm of their breath.

“Fucking hormones,” Tamsin chokes out, sniffling. It’s easy to blame the pregnancy—far easier than having some kind of emotional discussion. “I can’t wait to get this thing out of me.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet _that thing_ ,” Bo says with an audible smile. She rolls away, and a box of tissues drops onto the mattress in front of Tamsin. While Tamsin wipes at her face, Bo shifts on the bed behind her. When Bo pulls the blankets up and settles in behind Tamsin, her pants and bra have both been discarded, leaving precious little fabric between them.

The heat radiating from Bo’s body is unmistakable. “Don’t you need to feed?” Tamsin asks, awkward and unsure.

Bo presses a kiss to the side of Tamsin’s head, just next to her ear. “I’ll be okay,” she murmurs. “Get some rest.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Tamsin falls asleep.

***

Kenzi doesn’t know exactly _what_ happened, but something definitely did.

She gets that Bo is doing the supportive friend thing, but lately she’s been getting a distinct more-than-friendly vibe between her BFF and the mama-to-be.

Tamsin refuses to discuss it, which is red flag numero uno. Kenzi has raised that valkyrie since she was a feral child—there’s not a lot that Tamsin won’t talk to her about. Which, okay, makes sense; Kenzi’s not an idiot, and the massive flame Tamsin harbors for Bo has been obvious for a while.

And there was that kiss that Bo never did end up explaining, back before the infamous Dawning. So okay, it’s never quite been just buddy-buddy with those two.

But now…well damn, it’s starting to feel like Bo is the expectant daddy instead of Dyson. At any given moment, Bo is either curled up with Tamsin on the couch, fussing over Tamsin and the baby, or out picking up food or whatever else Tamsin might want.

As if on cue, the door to the clubhouse creaks open.

“I’m back,” Bo calls out, letting the door fall shut behind her. She drops her coat and keys in the kitchen before making a beeline for the couch, dropping a small paper bag onto the table. She settles predictably into her usual spot at Tamsin’s side, while Kenzi watches from the other end of the couch. “How’s she doing?”

“Tired,” Tamsin grumbles. “Grouchy.”

“You poor thing,” Bo shoots back affectionately. “I meant the baby.”

“Hey, I’m the one who hasn’t slept through the night in weeks,” Tamsin protests. “That little shit has it easy.”

“Well, this should help.” Bo reaches for the bag she brought over and pulls out a small box of allergy medicine. “Just one, Valkyrie. Don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Tamsin rolls her eyes. “Like she’s so innocent. I can’t even remember what it’s like to _not_ feel like I’ve been hit by a semi.”

Bo raises an eyebrow, holding the box out of reach when Tamsin grabs for it.

“Fine,” Tamsin sighs. “Just one. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” Bo points out as she hands over the box.

“Not much for honor, either,” Tamsin quips, tearing it open and popping a single pink tablet out of the foil. She holds it up between her thumb and forefinger, flashing it at Bo. “Wish me luck.”

After tossing back the pill with a swig of water, Tamsin begins the arduous process of getting up. Bo is up immediately, reaching down to help Tamsin to her feet. When they’re both standing steady, Bo’s hand settles on Tamsin’s stomach. Tamsin doesn’t seem to notice, let alone begrudge it, and inwardly Kenzi huffs. That girl _still_ rolls her eyes whenever Kenzi wants to feel the baby kick—and that’s _Kenzi_. Anyone else is lucky to walk away with both hands intact.

“Use my bed,” Bo offers, idly stroking with her thumb. “More room for you to stretch out.”

Tamsin flashes Bo a grateful smile, covers Bo’s hand with her own. They look like nothing more than a newlywed couple expecting their first kid; Kenzi shuts her eyes against the tears that threaten to fall.

It hasn’t been easy, to say the least. It’s not like Kenzi had baby names picked out—she had barely begun to consider the idea of marrying Hale—but there are times when she looks at Tamsin and all she can see is just another thing she’ll never get to have.

She can’t tell anyone that though, not even Bo. She knows what Bo will say, what everyone will say: she’s still young, she has time to find someone else…it’s all bullshit. The only person she wants is gone; all the time in the world can’t change that.

What she _can_ do is fight like hell to protect the people she loves—even if that means protecting them from each other. She watches the quiet exchange as Bo and Tamsin part, sees how Bo’s eyes follow Tamsin up the stairs.

“You two have gotten pretty close,” Kenzi remarks quietly, when she’s sure Tamsin is out of earshot.

“Babies can have that affect on people.” Bo shrugs, the last vestiges of a smile lingering on her lips as she sinks into the corner of the couch that Tamsin just abandoned.

Kenzi sighs. “Bo-Bo, be careful with her.”

Bo smiles uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, she’s totally into you. Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed.”

Guilt flickers across Bo’s face, and she looks down at her hands in her lap. “What am I supposed to do, not be there for her?”

“No.” Kenzi sighs again, reaches across the couch to grab Bo’s hand. “No, just…just make sure you’re not accidentally sending the wrong signals or something, okay? She may be all grown up and havin’ a baby of her own, but she’s still my baby TamTam.”

Bo shifts her hand to lace her fingers with Kenzi’s, squeezing gently. “Believe me Kenz, the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

It takes all of three seconds for the earnest expression on Bo’s face to get to Kenzi. She huffs dramatically, rolls her eyes. “Oh, come here, you dysfunctional sex demon,” she says, pulling Bo in for a hug.

Whatever happens next, it’s bound to be messy. But they’re a family; they’ll find some way to make it through.

Better stock up on double fudge ice cream, though. Just in case.

***

Tamsin is no stranger to pain. She’s died on multiple occasions, often in slow and agonizing ways.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. None of the Lamaze classes Kenzi dragged her to, none of the exercises Lauren suggested and Bo made sure she kept up with.

It feels like she’s being torn apart from the inside out, like she’s got a white-hot sword stuck in her gut and she’s trying to push it out with the sheer power of her abdominal muscles. Once or twice she almost regrets letting Bo and Kenzi be in the room; she’s sure there are some cracked hand bones between them.

Bo’s been regaling her with stories recently, of women claiming to forget the pain once it’s all over and their child is placed in their arms. Tamsin can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s bullshit.

She is something though, this tiny thing. Bright blue eyes, a tiny patch of downy blonde hair. A fragile creature of flesh and bone, brought to life because of one ill-advised drunken hookup.

“She’s beautiful,” Bo murmurs, pressing a kiss to Tamsin’s sweaty forehead.

“Yeah,” Tamsin breathes, too tired to bother trying to disguise her awe. “She is, isn’t she?”

“Hey partner,” Dyson says softly, poking his head into the room. “Is it safe to come in?”

Tamsin rolls her eyes and waves him in with her free hand. “Check out what we did,” Tamsin says, her voice tinged with wonder. When he reaches her bedside, Dyson reaches out a gentle finger to caress the baby’s cheek. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dyson’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes locked on his daughter’s face. “Pretty cool.”

***

Bo is in love.

Looking down at that crinkly red face, the tiny eyelids fluttering in sleep, Bo knows that she will do anything it takes to keep this child happy and safe.

“You know,” Dyson murmurs, stepping quietly into the room, “when I used to dream about you raising my child, this isn’t exactly how I pictured it.”

“Ha ha.” Bo gives him a withering glare, but her smile spoils the effect. “I am not raising anyone. I’m just…Auntie Bo.”

Dyson crosses the room, kneels down beside her chair. “You know you’re more than that to her.”

Bo doesn’t need to ask; they both know who and what he’s talking about. She frowns a little, turns her focus to the baby in her arms. Dyson reaches out to stroke one tiny fist.

“You’ve had her heart for a while, Bo,” Dyson says, calm and matter-of-fact. “Be careful what you do with it.” He holds up a small stuffed wolf in his free hand. “Give that to her when she wakes up.”

“Who, the baby or Tamsin?” Bo quips under her breath, glancing sideways to make sure Tamsin is still asleep in her bed.

Dyson smirks and rises to his feet. “Whichever one’s crankier.”

Not long after Dyson leaves, the bundle in Bo’s arms begins to squirm and fuss. The baby’s eyes are barely open as she fumbles and paws at Bo’s chest.

“Oh no, honey,” Bo says, gently prying the collar of her shirt out of tiny fingers. “You don’t want those.”

“Can’t blame her for trying,” Tamsin says with a smirk, her voice thick with sleep. “They are pretty impressive.”

A grin tugs at Bo’s mouth as she rolls her eyes. She gets up and takes the few steps toward the hospital bed, depositing the baby into welcoming arms. “You’re the impressive one,” she murmurs, dragging the pad of her thumb over a tiny cheek.

“Ugh.” Tamsin’s eyes shoot toward the ceiling. “We are not discussing anything that may or may not have happened or been excreted in this room.”

Bo shakes her head, lays her hand on Tamsin’s arm. “It was all worth it though, right? She’s amazing,” she says softly. “Just like her mama.”

Her eyes drift up to meet Tamsin’s, and time seems to slow to a crawl. There’s something so raw and unguarded in Tamsin’s expression, as if she’s too worn out to try to disguise anything. It draws Bo in, makes something flutter in her chest, and Dyson’s words echo in her head.

She could have Tamsin, in whatever way she wanted. She’s known that for a while, even if she’s tried to put it out of her mind, but right now it’s painfully and intensely clear—and right now, there’s nothing she wants more than to close the distance between them, to feel Tamsin’s lips melt against hers yet again.

As if on cue the baby fusses, cranky at being forgotten in her hunger. Bo blinks, looks away as Tamsin tugs down her gown to guide the baby’s eager mouth to her breast.

***

“Ow!” Tamsin jerks and pulls the tiny mouth away from her nipple. “Little shit bit me.”

Kenzi scoffs. “Dude. She’s like, a week old. How can she bite you?”

Tamsin glares at Kenzi as she grudgingly lets the baby start eating again. She winces at the suction on her raw skin. “Uh, I don’t know, but I think I know what getting bit feels like.”

“Aw, she must take after her daddy,” Kenzi teases, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest.

“Asshole.” She’s not sure if she means Dyson or Kenzi, but right now she doesn’t care.

“Hey!” Kenzi reaches across the couch to smack Tamsin on the leg. “Language, missy.”

“Please.” Tamsin rolls her eyes. “Like they can remember anything at this age.”

“Hey, you would be surprised,” Kenzi retorts, holding up a finger pointedly. “My cousin Ruslan swears he remembers his house burning down, and that was when he was like, a month old.”

“Whatever.” Tamsin looks down at the baby, whose sucking has slowed considerably. A bit of milk has collected in the corners of her mouth, and as Tamsin watches, it trickles down her chin to soak into her cotton onesie. Her little eyelids are nearly closed, her fist curled up against the side of Tamsin’s breast. A smile pulls at Tamsin’s mouth, and she nudges her nipple free and re-situates her clothes. “She’s almost passed out anyway. Probably didn’t even hear me.”

Before Kenzi can launch into a lecture about child-appropriate language and behavior, the floorboards creak behind them. Bo is standing in the doorway leading to the stairs, watching them—watching _Tamsin_ —with an unreadable expression.

“Whoa, creeper much?” Tamsin cracks uneasily, keeping her voice soft for the baby’s sake. “How long have you been there?”

Bo smiles, and the weight of it makes Tamsin’s chest flutter. “Long enough.” She walks around to the front of the couch, kneels on the carpet before Tamsin.

“Um, what are you doing?” Tamsin asks, her forehead drawing tight and anxious.

“Bo-Bo…” Kenzi interjects, her voice tinged with warning.

“It’s okay, Kenz.” Bo looks over, gives Kenzi a reassuring nod.

It seems to mean something to Kenzi, even if Tamsin is still baffled. Kenzi’s gaze shifts back and forth slowly between Bo and Tamsin before she nods. A smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she rises to her feet. “Why don’t I just take this little nugget upstairs, give you two girls some privacy.”

Tamsin hands the baby off to Kenzi, then settles her hands on her stomach. It’s fluttering so hard that she almost forgets that the baby has already been born. “So what’s this about?” she asks nervously, peering up to meet Bo’s gaze.

Bo rises to sit next to Tamsin on the couch, reaches out to grab her hand. “You,” Bo replies, quiet but intense. “And me. Tamsin, I…I’m not blind. I’ve known how you felt for a while now. I tried to pretend I didn’t, because I wasn’t in the same place, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s fine—” Tamsin starts, desperate to have any conversation but this right now—or ever.

“Please. Let me finish.” A breathless smile tugs at Bo’s lips. Her fingers contract around Tamsin’s, warm and gentle. “It took me a while, maybe too long, but I think I’m there now.”

“Bo,” Tamsin says shakily, emotion swelling in her throat, “what are you saying?”

Bo shifts closer, raises her free hand to cup Tamsin’s cheek. She drags in a trembling breath. “I am saying that I love you. You’ve been a part of our family for a while now, but I think…” she trails off, shakes her head. “No, I _know_ that I want more than that. I want you.” She pauses, and uncertainty flickers through her eyes. “If…if you still want that.”

Tamsin swallows hard, trying to fight back the tears pricking at her eyes. She can barely believe what she just heard, let alone react to it, but she’ll be damned if she lets Bo think she doesn’t want this.

In the end, all she can manage is a weak nod. It’s enough for Bo, who smiles wide like Tamsin just gave her some precious gift as she leans in to close the distance between them.

She’s kissed Bo before, but this…this might just be the single most perfect moment of Tamsin’s entire existence. In a way, she’s suddenly really glad that this is her last life; she wouldn’t want this memory to fade with the passing millenia.

It wasn’t so long ago that Tamsin had nothing, save for an impossible job and a beat-up pickup truck. Now…now, she has more than she ever could have dreamed of. She’s starting to think this kid is the best thing that ever happened to her.


End file.
